Destini Ingannevoli
by Lehava Shadowsong
Summary: A string of childhood dreams leads two souls together in the most troubled of times. m!AmellxZevran; Is now M.
1. Prologue: Sogno

Author's Note: This idea has been kicking around in my head for quite some time and now that it's NaNoWriMo, I decided to write it down. It's my own version of the event, and I hope to have at least three chapters down a week. This story will take a sharp left turn from the DA:O plot towards the end of the story and I am hoping everyone will like it.

Destini Ingannevoli

Prologue: Sogno

The Fade could be a strange and wondrous place. Full of shifting, ever changing scenery, spirits both benevolent and harmful. The only thing that never changed was the Black City. Sitting at the heart of the Fade, all the realms, dreams and nightmares circled it. It was the eye of the storm, the forgotten seat of the Maker. Humanity aspired to reach it and tainted it with their touch, causing the Maker to turn his back on them. As punishment, the Maker cast the Mages back down as twisted heaps of flesh now known as the Darkspawn.

The actions of the Tevinter Magi ruined the lot of all mages for every Age since. 'What vile things mages are', the humankind now whispered, 'the Chantry protects us from their wicked sorcery. Never trust a mage, never let them out of the Tower'.

"… What a pile of rubbish." A rock skittered across the broken landscape of a Fade island. Another soon followed it. "We aren't to blame, what happened was Ages ago!"

Rayel threw a third rock, this one flying farther and bouncing a few times when it landed. His mind circled the words that had been drilled into his head by the Revered Mother, whispered by the Templar's, and by his Teachers. It was always this way when he came to the Fade, always, and his Guardian was silent. "It's not like any mage nowadays could just… do that anyway. Not without a stupid Sword of Mercy in their heart." Alien eyes glanced at his Guardian, quickly amending his words. "Though it's not like anyone would want to do it!"

A rumbling chuckle was his only answer. The boy frowned and tossed another rock. No sound… no clinking of rock on hard earth, or the whistle of it as it flew through the air. This was the Fade after all and it operated by different rules. What was normal was alien here and what was alien… was normal. Utter silence unless he spoke, twisted trees that looked more like some monsters' groping tentacles then plant, Avvar or Tevinter statues that served no purpose but to be there. There was no water, no life, nothing to be called human on his little island.

Unless he willed it into being that is. He was a mage after all and his will in the Fade was as real as any Templar's' sword.

The human cupped his hands together and concentrated. It looked and felt like that… tasted like this. When he opened his hands four round and dark balls sat in his palms. "I did it!" Rayel showed his Guardian, earning another chuckle and mimicry of a smile. "I told him I could and now he can try them. Can't say he never had the chance!"

"Never had the chance for what?"

The child spun around, clambering to his feet at the same time. Hands closed tightly around his prizes as he faced his friend. "To try the cocoa balls I told you about!" He grinned at the elven child. "I didn't think you'd make it."

He shrugged, tucking a thick and stringy lock of hair behind an ear. "They were easy on us today." It was all that Rayel would ever get as an explanation when the elf was present.

"Good! I haven't seen you in a week and I missed you." A pout decorated his lips as he thrusted out his hands to show him the treats. "You said you've never had candy before and now you can. I went through all the trouble of making them, so don't say no." The pout curved up into a smile when the elf wrinkled his nose. "Oh come on, live a little!"

Rayel watched him consider the little balls, cautiously taking one. His friend was strange, not even a mage, and so foreign. It was improbable that he would be here but possible, not impossible like that stuff shirt Ferren said it was. '_Non-mages can come to the Fade but they don't know it is the Fade; all they see are their dreams. Only Mages can tell it is the Fade_.' Well poo on him, because his friend knew it was Fade and he couldn't do magic at all! Showed what Ferren knew.

The elf-boy was from a country far away. Something exotic sounding that he could never remember. Not with the senior mages trying to cram rules and spells and Maker knows what else into his head. Gold from his hair to his dirty feet, like the afternoon sun, clad in dirty rags that had once been a tunic and breeches. Rayel was more like the moon or stars, from his dark black-silver hair and tanned skin to his unnatural blue-white eyes. They made quite the pair, the elf and human. Mage and… something else.

When the other boy popped the treat into his mouth the mage shifted from foot to foot eagerly. "It's got licorice inside it, or licor… or whatever Da called it! Said it wasn't for kids but I snuck some when the Stall Lady wasn't looking. It's good, isn't it? Tastes like cherries or almonds." The golden boy nodded, eyes now stuck on the cocoa balls, fingers twitching with the want for more. "Go on, you can have them. I made them for you after all."

Before he was even finished they had been snatched away. It only made him grin to watch him savor each one. "After I ate the bag I snatched my head felt all funny. Everything spun and it was bright!" Rayel remembered that vividly. It had been fun until he'd gone to sleep, waking the next morning with cotton mouth and a pounding headache. Every noise made his head hurt even more and the sunlight had been unbearable.

His Da hadn't been happy and made it known. Rayel had expected a spanking but no, his evil father had kept up a steady stream of chatter through the day and refused to walk in the shade. He'd hated him so much that day!

Rayel sank back down to the ground beside the elf, not daring to interrupt him while he was eating the treats. His friend was skittish every time he came here. At least he'd stopped saying it was a test the Master's were putting him through. It always made him wonder if that's why he knew it was the Fade. Had someone else sent him here?

He'd never tell him who the Master's were or why they were testing him. The elf-boy would divert the topic, want to play a game or explore their island. He didn't know much about him, though Rayel was open with his world: the Mage Tower and the times before he'd been brought there. While he was curious the boys company was fine enough for him.

When the boy was done he tugged on the sleeve of his dirty tunic. "Want to play Climb the Mountain?" It was their favorite game, though probably his Guardian's least favorite game. The mountain was always the Guardian, because the dragon made it fun. Always shifting and shaking to make things hard.

"Yes!" And his friend was gone in a flash, racing for a foot to start the climb.

"Hey! That's cheating!" Rayel sprinted after him, laughing as he followed the faster boy up the spirit's front leg.

There were spikes aplenty to give the boys good leverage and the scales were good handholds. Every now and then the large dragon would shift, sometimes sending one of them back to the ground. Whoever could hold on the most would usually win. The elf usually won, he was far more agile and better at holding on then Rayel was. Faster too. He was already at the shoulders, where the spikes were less and the wings got in the way.

Rayel wouldn't give in without a fight however and scrambled to reclaim the ground he'd lost when his Guardian had last shifted. Spikes and scales propelled him up and up, and by the time he'd reached the dragon's head the golden elf was already there, grinning like a loon. He flopped down beside him and giggled. "I'll beat you one day."

"No you won't, because I'm King of the Mountain!" The other puffed out his chest, making the human giggle harder. Some King of the Mountain he was when he looked like he hadn't had a bath or good meal in weeks, and was wearing rags.

"But if you're King of the Mountain I can't rescue you." Puppy dog eyes made the other boy deflate like a balloon after a well-placed pin. He almost made the same high-pitched sound. The saucer-round eyes made Rayel giggle even more.

He tilted his head to the side, tugging on an ear like he hadn't heard him that well. "Rescue me? Why would you want to rescue _me_?"

Rayel waited for his dragon's head to touch the broken ground before he said anything else. "Last year I had a dream of a lady and she said I'd save someone!"

_'Please save my son.' The light-colored eyes bored into his as the amulet seared into his skin. White-hot pain that scorched his body, burning out the illness and placing new power, a new sentience into his flesh._

He scrambled off the large head, pivoting on one foot to face the boy again. The elf was hanging onto a large horn and watching him like he'd gone mad. Maybe he was. "I don't know who her son is, but I'm going to save you." It was a novel idea wasn't it? Him, a forsaken mage, escaping the tower and travelling the world to save his best friend! They could run forever, climbing mountains and dodging stuffy Templar's.

Before the other could say anything he dipped into a bow. He'd seen someone do it at Redcliffe Village and had secretly practiced it. One leg tucked behind the other, foot resting on its toes, while one arm was behind his back, and the other hand placed over his heart. Head bowed the fall of his long hair marred his view of his friend. He hoped he looked courtly – whatever courtly was – and not stupid like Jowan said.

"I swear I will find you and rescue you from your Masters, Zevran."


	2. Chapter 1: Risveglio

**Author's Note:** It seems I was a little wrong in saying three chapters a week. Maybe one a week would be more apropos. Rayel is a little OOC in this chapter, he'll liven up when Zevran comes into the fold. Poor poor Elf… he's probably the only sane one in the party.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age or it's characters. Bioware owns all rights to that sexy Antivan elf.

Destini Ingannevoli  
Chapter 1: Risveglio

That dream… it was always the same dream.

Rayel scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the sleep from his eyes. If it wasn't the Darkspawn dreams, then it was that one. A pleasant change and one he'd rather have then those dark ones. "Ugh…" The mage glanced at the flap of his tent, noticing that the rest of the camp was up and about already.

This whole adventuring thing was going to take some getting used to. Ever since Duncan had recruited him more than a month ago it had been nothing like the Mage Tower. All the stories never mentioned the constant walking, the hard ground and unsavory foods. _Better than being cooped up in the Tower or Maker knows what if Greagoir got his way_, one little niggling voice piped up. So very true.

Robes were secured in place and staff taken up before he joined his companions. A bowl of oats with honey and fresh fruit was hastily downed with thanks to Wynne before they were on their way.

They were headed to Redcliffe Village, taking the Imperial Highway west around Lake Calenhad instead of just going south from the Mage Tower. Leliana and Alistair had assured him it would save time but he doubted it. It seemed like it would waste more time going this way. He had deferred to his companions advice, however, since his time outside of the Tower culminated in two months and no trips around the Lake at all. Maybe he'd keep a time chart of the trips around Lake Calenhad to see for himself…

Soon after they left camp they encountered a small group of Darkspawn – one Emissary, a few Hurlock's and two Genlock rogues. Easily dispatched with few injuries. Having a true healer in the party was a blessing. Before going to the Tower they had been relying on Morrigan and Rayel for healing. The Witch had spoken true in her statement that she was no healer, and the Warden was more adept at handling flames then healing spells. With Wynne around the battle mages could do what they did best: making Darkspawn explode into little gooey bits.

The rest of the day was spent doing even more walking with Sten and Lucian at point and Alistair taking up rear guard. With no further sign of their ugly foes the party struck up banter. It made him so proud – enough to wipe away a tear – to see them all getting along. Mostly.

"I have a wonder, Alistair, if you will indulge me." Not even half day yet and the bickering was going to start. A record for sure.

"Do I have a choice?" The Templar deadpanned. If Alistair could sound any more enthusiastic…

"Of the two of you that remain, are you not the senior Grey Warden here? I find it curious that you allow another to lead, while you follow."

Ah, and this was where Rayel picked up the pace to the next set of companions. He was not about to referee another verbal boxing match for them.

The Senior Enchanter and the lovely Leliana. The two women could be a welcome respite from the repressed sexual tension at the back of the group. He stayed silent, far more willing to listen then join in any conversation. Growing up in the Tower did give one some good lessons in things other than magic. You could often learn more eavesdropping then you did talking to someone.

Rayel was also worried about the Senior Mage after Petra told him about her encounter with the demon. He had mentioned as much when they left the Tower and even though Wynne had reassured him that all she needed was rest he was unsure. There was just something about her that seemed… _off_.

"Wynne, is this yours?" The redhead produced a sack from her gear with a little 'oh' of remembrance.

"Oh, my bag of components!" Wynne smiled at the girl and tucked the bag into her belt. "Thank you dear… I was wondering where that got to."

"You left it by the fire, at camp."

He waited until their conversation had wrapped up to catch Leliana's eye. Rayel mouthed the words 'thank you' at her for watching over the woman. The Bard smiled and nodded, turning a little red at his appreciation. A playful wink was given just to watch her turn an even more delightful shade of crimson. What was the harm in a little bit of flirtation with a beautiful woman? He didn't get to do that with Morrigan, as the Witch's methods were far more straightforward and left little room for the pleasurable pursuit of verbal foreplay.

The pace was quickened to catch up with Sten and his Mabari when the large man ground to a halt.

"Is something wrong, Sten?" He joined him at the front, blue-white eyes scanning the area. Lucian leaned into his thigh, issuing a low growl.

The Qunari didn't answer, he didn't need to. At the mouth of the gorge ahead was a woman wearing a dirt streaked dress, hair a mess and nervous. "Oh thank the Maker!" She ran forward, stopping a few feet away from them. Her face was twisted in a poor parody of fear, eyes darting between all of them. "We need help! They attacked the wagon, please, help us! Follow me; I'll take you to them." And like that she was gone, running back around the bend.

Sten glanced down at the Warden, pleased to see the man frowning. Not quite as much an idiot as he first thought. "A trap."

"And a mage." Morrigan and Wynne nodded agreements from behind him. The rest of the party had caught up during the woman's little show.

The dark-haired Witch scoffed. "A trap it definitely is, if one is attacked by Bandits, twould make no proper sense to run back to them in such a manner."

"Leliana, Morrigan, I want you two to take out any archers that they may have. Lucian, protect Wynne," The Hound barked and fell back to the Mage's side. "Alistair, you're going to have to be the meat shield again." He clapped a hand on his Brother's shoulder while the Templar groaned in mock exasperation. "Hit that bitch with a Holy Smite and Sten 'n I'll take care of any melee they have."

He took point and led the way around the bend. If the woman hadn't been a mage and had invested in acting classes, the scene before him would have triggered every warning alarm in his head. Overturned carts, dead cows and one lone, armored elf standing at the other side. No bandits at all. The human woman had stopped in front of him, seeming to say something before turning around with a wide smirk.

The elven man stepped forward, making a gesture with a hand. Three mercenaries emerged from behind the carts; three archers appeared on his left, two on his right. Above him, a thick cracking sound had him glancing up. "Shit!" He dove out of the way, barely managing to avoid becoming squished Gray Warden ala Tree.

The Elf drew his swords, voice ringing out across the stone and signaling the beginning of the battle with a subtle 'The Gray Warden dies here!'.


	3. Chapter 2: Battaglia

**Author's Note: **Did I forget to mention in my previous note that I'm awfully fond of inopportune endings? No? Well, there it is, ha ha. This one ends rather abruptly I think, but mostly because we all know what happens after. So here we have Zevran and now the fun really starts! And apologies to anyone who received the spam of my chapter uploads. I think I need a beta.

For those of you who have reviewed I want to say thank you so much! I love getting feedback even if it's criticisms.

**Disclaimer: **Bioware owns all rights to the Dragon Age franchise and one sexy Antivan Elf.

Destini Innagevoli  
Chapter 2: Battaglia

The best thing about battles was that even when planned things always went wrong. Alistair had to drop back to protect Leliana and Morrigan from the mercenaries and archers, with help from Sten. That left him to deal with the mage and the leader. A feral smile curved his lips as he moved away from the knot of his companions.

Most mages tended to hang in the back to throw spells and stay away from the action. Not him. He very much enjoyed being in the thick of battle with Alistair and Sten, Lucian guarding his back. His companions weren't so thrilled with his preferences however.

A freezing spell rooted the hostile mage in place, interrupting her lightning spell. As his strides covered the ground between them he could feel his blood singing in his veins. The twang of arrows, the crash of metal on metal seemed to fade away. His vision tunneled, heart pounding in his ears, air crisp and sharp in his lungs, muscles burning as he ran. There was only him and his target.

The spell released on her when he was just a few feet away. Confusion was in her eyes for a moment before reality came crashing down on her again. Lips and hands moved in a hasty attempt to paralyze him. Reacting on instinct Rayel shifted his grip on his staff, holding it like a two handed sword. Feet dug into the ground, body twisting to turn the energy of his momentum into the force behind his swing.

Sten would have approved of the mage's strike if the Qunari wasn't involved at that moment. The staff whistled through the air, dragon heads and yellow orb gleaming in the sun as it came bearing up into the mage's head. Bone broke with a crunch under the blow of his staff, sending blood, brain and bone flying through the air. The force of it all kept him swinging around, stumbling to stop himself from falling over. It also brought him nose to nose with the golden elf.

It shocked him enough to blink stupidly at the man and luckily for him, the elf was as well. Little bits of bloody brain stained his face and armor but he didn't even notice. The elf's eyes… Rayel found himself lost in them. Amber yellow with small flecks of light brown and gray, wrapped in long lashes that were brown at the base and lightened to blonde at the tips. Entrancing, sensual, set in caramel skin and suave features. Breathing deep brought the scent of old leather, blood and spice to his nose. It stroked something inside him that, for an insane moment, wanted to do nothing more than bury his nose in the tanned skin and just soak it up.

The moment was broken with Alistair's roar, both men jerking back from the other with the guilt of teenagers found necking in the Tower library. Rayel danced backwards when the daggers came forward to gut him, the start of a game to stay alive and away from those quick weapons. Freezing spells didn't work on the elf; the lyrium enchantments on his armor helping him resist them. He was reluctant to use his fire spells on him and lightning slowed him down a bit. The paralysis spell worked when Alistair grabbed the elf's attention with a shield rush.

Rayel flung out an arm, stopping the Templar's sword arm. "No!" He gasped for air as he stared down at the prone form. How much time had passed while he'd been dodging those daggers? "I want to… to interrogate him." The mage straightened, trying to even out his panting, glancing at everyone as they gathered round. "Leliana, can you tie him up? Here, Sten." Daggers were handed to the large man. He doubted their captive would want to tangle with the Qunari to get them back.

The Chantry Sister ghosted back from one of the carts with a good length of rope. Within a few minutes she had the elven man tied and at their mercy.

The alien-eyed man hovered over the elf while everyone else wandered off to loot the bodies. Leliana had done well in tying him up; the man wouldn't be able to get away when he woke. He shifted from foot to foot, eager to talk to him, see if the crazy idea forming in his mind would come to fruition.

* * *

"Mm, I… oh, what…" He could forgive himself for his lack of eloquence upon waking. A shield to the head could do that to a person. Speaking of his head, it pounded like a blacksmith had taken up inside his skull. Zevran opened his eyes, immediately wincing at the sharp sunlight. If this was the afterlife he wanted to trade it for a harem of shapely women and handsome men, with endless supplies of fish chowder and Antivan brandy. Some leather wouldn't hurt either.

That lovely imagery was dashed to pieces when the fogginess of his vision finally faded away. There were a number of faces watching him. Some with suspicion, some with curiosity, one with humor. He focused on the last face, recognizing it as the mage who had almost run him over. The one with such strange eyes. "I… oh, oh…" Speaking hurt but he wasn't about to remain silent. "I rather thought I'd wake up dead, or not wake up at all as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet." No harem for him yet it seemed.

The Warden tilted his head, a smiled playing over his lips. Zevran gave him a quick look over now that he was over the shock of a mage – a _mage _– playing warrior. Tall for a human, dark skinned – did he have Ravaini ancestry? – with a chiseled face of harsh lines that softened when he smiled. His targets hair was long and dark silver, held back in a ponytailed braid, at odds with the black stubble around his mouth and up his jaw line. There was a stylized winged tattoo around his eyes that was either faded from age or meant to be such a light gray. And his body… since when did a mage acquire such musculature as he had? He was a warrior wrapped in magic and flimsy cloth.

A handsome man… nay, a very appealing, masculine man.

For all the appeal, the Warden's eyes made him uneasy. They were an alien white with blue shards, almost indistinguishable from the whites of his eyes except for a black rim.

"I have some questions." The man stated. Dear Maker, he had expected something far more gravelly when he spoke. The mage had a voice like satin, pitched low and husky. What would it be like whispering in his ear as the Warden ravished him? Ah, but that was a thought for another time, if he did not wind up dead that was. Dying now? No, he wished to live.

"Ah, so I am to be interrogated. Let me save you some time, my name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Gray Wardens." The smile on the Warden's face faded just a little, while the other Warden (his name was unknown, as was the name of the one who was obviously the leader) shifted in his armor. "Which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather happy you failed." The small smile was back on the human's lips, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Was he teasing him?

The elf shifted, feeling the ropes that bound him for the first time. Who had done these knots? They were incredibly well done! He would be hard pressed to get up and run for it if things went sour, and inching his way across the ground if they left him like this would be rather undignified. "So would I in your shoes!" He chuckled, which seemed to make his captor smile a little more. "For me however it sets a rather poor precedent doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

"Too bad for you, then." The Warden was definitely teasing him. His smile was growing wider, not even bothering to seem serious about all this. The mage was just going through the motions of an interrogation, possibly to appease his companions. A few of them looked like they would happily run him threw.

The assassin was intrigued that he had not been asked yet what the Antivan Crows were. They were rather infamous back home but here in Ferelden they seemed to be nothing more than rumors.

"Yes, it's true. Too bad for me." He slipped on his best pout, hiding a smile behind it when the other actually laughed softly. The others around the male seemed to relax a little, but still eyed him like a midday snack. Not the pleasurable kind of midday snack either. His life was still in the man's hands and if this poor form of questioning came to an end he would put forth his offer.

"Who hired you to kill us?"

Aha! A real question this time. "A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain I think his name was." Recognition flashed through the Warden's eyes, and the smile melted into a weary sigh. "Yes, that's it."

"Does that mean you're loyal to Loghain?" If he was suspicious he was adept at hiding it.

"I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?" More than that, he knew. Traveling through Ferelden he had not simply kept his ears plugged. Rumors abounded about Loghain's abdication of the battlefield, leaving the King and the bulk of the Ferelden Warden's to die. The new Regent blamed the Gray Wardens for the King's death, branding them as heretics and outlaws. Heading to Lothering he heard the new rumors of the Warden's movements to the Circle of Magi and its seeming demon-plagued problems. He'd turned north, and upon the mage's departure, had been following him since.

"Beyond that, no, I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service."

His captor rocked back on his heels, nodding. "And now that you've failed in that service?" The good humor of moments ago was gone, seriousness and… worry? in its place.

This chuckle was rather forced, tempered by the thought of the torture waiting for him at the hands of the Crows. "Well, that's between Loghain and the Crows, and between the Crows and myself." He couldn't help the dripping disdain in his last words.

"And between you and me?"

"Isn't that what we're establishing now?" Finally! But no, there were still more questions to be answered.

The white-blue eyes glanced away from him, then back. Zev smoothed his face, not letting anything through except subtle confidence and submission. "When were you to see him next?" The man was a horrible interrogator. There was no flow or rhythm to his questions.

"I wasn't." Zevran shrugged, the ropes around his arms tightening with the gesture. "If I had succeeded I would have returned home to the Crows and they would have informed your Loghain of the results. If he didn't already know."

"If I had failed I would be dead, or I should be, at least, as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then."

The smile was back, eyes falling to half-lidded. "_If_ you had failed?"

If the man's body language hadn't been that of good humor and teasing, Zevran would have been irritated that he was being insulted. He _had_ failed, rather admirably, but it would have pricked his ego even so. Instead he played with the humor the man seemed to like. "What can I say, huh? I am an eternal optimist! Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem slim, don't they?" He laughed, a tad hysterically, and at himself. If he slew the Warden tied like this they'd tell tales of him for Ages after killing him. Laughter died out when the Warden didn't laugh as well. Bad move. "No I don't suppose you'd find that funny would you?"

The questioning continued for a bit after that, the elf spilling his origins for them all. His Warden had frowned at his small tale and seemed to be a bit angry at it. The redheaded archer echoed the look, the other Warden actually managed to drop the killing glare for a moment. The rest of them either scoffed or eyed him even more.

Zevran finally managed to steer the conversation back to where he could make his offer. "If you're done interrogating me we can discuss loyalty further."

"I'm listening."

"Well, here's the thing, I failed to kill you so my life is forfeit. That's how it works." He really did enjoy watching the emotions on his Warden's face. How quickly he could go from being verbally playful to serious to anger. It was mesmerizing and easy for him to play up his truths with subtle tones and expressions. "If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So… let me serve you instead."

"You must think I'm royally stupid." The tall human immediately snapped to snarling, shocking Zevran enough to say the wrong thing and then trip over his words.

"I think you're royally tough to kill. I'm only _hoping_ that you're stupid. That was a joke. Let me rephrase that. I'm _hoping_ that you're the sort of fellow that takes a chance every now and again. Ha, ha... No?" The Crow refused to acknowledge that he might actually have whimpered the last words out.

A loud laugh made him growl lowly, realizing he'd been played by the Warden. He was good he had to say, managing to shove him off point for a moment. If his offer was accepted the man would keep him on his toes. It was irritating, and it made him want him. It would be a good chase, and if the man preferred men, a most pleasing culmination.

"Very well." A hand gestured to the archer. She slipped around with grace to undo his bindings, offering him a warm smile. "I accept your offer." When the ropes were gone she retreated and the Warden offered him a hand.

Calloused fingers, strong hands. Stronger then the few mages he'd met back in Antiva. His mind started to wander down a different path when he was easily pulled to his feet. How would those hands feel on another part of his body? It was just getting to the good part of his quick daydream when the blonde Warden let out a yelped 'What?'

"You're taking the _assassin_ with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it. We could use him." The satiny voice changed, more like silk now. Reaching out and smoothing the other Warden's anger. So the Warden not only could change moods like a fall typhoon, but he had a silver tongue as well. He would have to see just how silver that tongue was later.

The Templar glanced between the assassin and mage. His shoulders slumped in defeat in the face of his Brother's reassurance. "Hmm, alright, alright. I see your point." A baleful glare was sent Zevran's way. "Still if there was a sign we were desperate I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

With the other Warden's grudging consent Zevran reluctantly let go of the warm hand and made a shallow bow. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation, this I swear."


	4. Chapter 3: Bacio

**Author's Note:** Aha, the third Chapter finally! Microsoft Word died on me and I finally got around to downloading Open Office today so I could continue. Zev and Rayel's bonding starts in this chapter with some steamy goodness. It's been a while since I've written a _scene_ so I hope it's not TOO horrible.

All translations are at the bottom of the page. Italian will be italicized.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dragon Age or the sexy Antivan Elf. They both belong to Bioware/David Gaider.

* * *

Destini Ingannevoli  
Chapter 3: Bacio

Travel had been rough after the joining of their latest party member. Not a few hours after they left the gorge clouds had rolled in and the skies opened up in a deluge of rain. It seemed even the Maker had frowned upon Rayel's decision to keep Zevran alive and invite him into their little group. The rain had been short lived, thankfully, but the roads had been nothing but mud for the few days afterward. Camp had been a subdued affair for that time and not many complaints were made over the assassin's presence. With a week of travel left to get to Redcliffe they finally fought free of the mud and were back on solid ground.

They were camped in a small clearing near the shores of Lake Calenhad that evening, with forest stretching to the west and south, the lake taking the rest of the boundaries.

Rayel eyed Alistair as the Warden hovered over the cooking pot. Gray sludge, or what Alistair called Lamb and Pea Stew, was being stirred in it. The look of it was rather unappetizing, and the smell even more so. He was going to have to pull him off the cooking schedule soon if the man didn't learn to destroy something else soon. Zevran could take his place, he mused, and the assassin had to know how to cook.

Zevran… the Crow took up a lot of his thoughts lately; intermixed with curses at the mud, and Darkspawn. The elf seemed to have taken it upon himself to be the Warden's protector, whether it be from Darkspawn, bandits or beasts. He never lectured him for his quite unorthodox fighting style. Rayel could rush into the thick of things, wielding his staff with one hand and flame with the other, and Zevran would be at his back. It was an odd feeling to have the same man who tried to kill him working so hard to keep him alive.

Then there were the brief snatches of conversations they would have. Right from day one Zevran had been flirting with him, with hooded bedroom eyes and that damnable accent of his. Rayel was hesitant to take him up on it at first. He'd not lain with another man for some time now – actually it was just a few months – and with the Crow making it clear that he would be more than happy with an 'agreement', he was finding it hard pressed to say no.

He was no stranger to casual sex. There were a few things that Circle Magi excelled at: magic, arcana and sex. With nothing to do in the Tower but read all the time sex became a popular past time. Rayel was not picky about his lovers either outside of certain requirements. He enjoyed the curves of a human woman and the short stature and frame of an elven male. Like Zevran.

Speaking of the assassin, he felt him walk up behind him.

"Should I be worried for my health?"

He chuckled, scooting over on the rock to let the elf sit down. It was a small sitting surface but there would be plenty of room for them both with the elf's smaller stature. A thought he took back the moment Zevran sat down. The elf's thigh pressed against his own, burning hot through leather and cloth. Rayel sucked in a breath and cursed under his breath when he smelled the same scent as he had on the battlefield. Old leather, blood and spice… It socked him right in the groin like a lover's caress.

"With Alistair's lack of skill, you should be." The gray... stuff oozed out a bubble that popped with a stench comparable to Darkspawn. "I... think I'll be skipping dinner." His stomach was taking up swords and daggers in case he dared try eating.

"I shall join you, my Warden." The elf looked a little green under his golden skin. One hand hovered near his face, as if to ward off the scent. "How you Fereldan's can eat this... what you call food, it will always be a mystery."

Rayel laughed, smiling at the Antivan. "It's a mystery to us as well." He bumped shoulders with the other man. "Surely Antiva has some interesting dishes of it's own."

"Nothing quite like this. In some provinces they consume_ Rane Fritte_ and_ Riso e Rane_." At the mage's inquisitive face the assassin elaborated. "Fried frog and frog with risotto." Zevran laughed softly at the disgusted face. "It is quite good actually, as long as you do not ask what it is."

"The rule of such foods."

"Indeed! A rule to live by."

Alistair stirred the pot a few more times and studied a ladle full of the stew. "Dinner's ready!" Bowls were grabbed and liberally filled with the concoction. "Here you go, Ra." Two bowls were offered to the human and elf.

"Ah..." Those stabby implements his stomach had take up in defense were poking him viciously. "I just had some bread a little bit ago, not really that hungry..." He hastily corrected himself when his Brother's face fell. "But when I get hungry I'll grab a bowl, so save me some."

Alistair pouted, stirring the pot with a dejected air. One could almost see the black cloud of rejection hanging over him. "Fine but don't blame me if there isn't any left."

"I'm sure there will be." The elf muttered under his breath.

A cough covered his snicker. "I'm going to get a bath, sooo... I'll see you later!" The mage sprinted for his tent before the Templar's pouting made him too guilty to listen to his survival instincts. That man and his pouting...

"Ah! I shall join you, my dear Warden!"

He watched their contract killer dart after the Warden with narrowed eyes. Didn't trust that elf, not one bit. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rayel's attention had been diverted away from him to that... assassin. Nothing at all with any sort of jealousy, not him. It was insane to let a man who tried to kill them work with them after all!

A soft woof at his elbow dragged his attention away from his thoughts. "Hey, Lucian." The Mabari barked, looking between him and the pot of stew. "Want some?" Finally, someone who would appreciate his cooking! Rayel's bowl was set down for inspection.

Lucian took a whiff of the bowl and immediately started dry-heaving.

"Alistair! What did you do to Luci?" An outcry of concern with an Orlesian tinge immediately pierced the night air.

"I didn't do anything!" The bowl was snatched up as the Bard cradled the large dog to her chest with a coo. "He's just pretending."

"Awww, Luci, I won't let the big old Templar hurt you anymore." Leliana stroked the Mabari's head, pressing kisses to his snout as the beast whimpered plaintively.

Damn dog... he'd have to remember this trick.

* * *

By the time Zevran changed out of his armor and got down to the lake shore the Warden was already there. Not that he minded the view. The mage had stripped down to pants, robes piled in the sand by his feet. Without those layers of cloth hiding his body Zev was happily feasting on the muscular frame. The Warden's frame rippled with layer's of muscle that didn't belong on a mage. It was all in his shoulders and arms, tapering down to a skinny waist and hard bottom. His dusky skin was lightly dusted with black hair on his arms and just a bit across his chest. How would it feel under his hands and tongue?

He shifted, wishing for a moment that he hadn't changed out of his armor. That, at least, would have hidden the signs of his arousal. "Starting without me?" A saucy smirk greeted Rayel when he finally noticed the Crow.

"Well, you were taking a while, so yes, I was." Did the Warden know his right cheek dimpled when he smiled like that?

"For shame, I would have helped you unclothe. Those robes must have many clasps, yes?" Zevran flirted as he discarded his own tunic and breeches. He smirked at the human when those white-blue eyes roved over his body. Muscles flexed and he stretched, putting on a little show for him. Did he detect a darkening of those lovely eyes?

Rayel just smirked. "You'll have to find out one day." The satin voice seemed huskier then usual. Pants were disposed off as he slipped into the water with a content sigh. "I heated the water so we don't have to freeze to death."

The water was tested with a toe to make sure it was warm. It was passable by Antivan standards. Zevran joined his Warden in the water, reclining against one of the many boulders that littered the lake shore. "So we have escaped certain death at the hands of the Templar's cooking and now relax in good company." His gaze raked over what was visible of the Enchanter's body in the moonlight. Lust had not abated one bit in the presence of the man's naked body. It pooled hot and alive in his abdomen, wanting to touch and taste and explore every line, dip and curve until he begged for mercy.

It was more then just lust. Zevran felt comfortable in the man's presence, like he could truly relax without having to worry about being stabbed in the back. He almost trusted Rayel. Someone he had barely known two weeks. An individual who not only accepted his flirtations and attentions with good humor but returned them and more. The silver bar he'd been gifted was almost more then he made in a year working for the Crows, and the armor and weapons that replaced his old set were far superior, even enchanted.

Let the others think that his pursuit of the Warden was to gain favor and permanency in their group. His reasons were far more selfish then that. In his life good things were few and far between, easily snatched away by the Fates. He wanted more of it, of feeling wanted when Rayel stood toe to toe with Alistair whenever the blonde threw a temper tantrum over his existence. For that he would fight tooth and nail to keep.

He'd only known that feeling once before and had lost it. He wouldn't loose it again.

Zevran played with a handful of water, banishing those thoughts to the dark recesses of his mind. He looked back to the Warden who was watching him with a contemplative look. "Ah, how are we to spend this time luxuriating, naked, away from the prying eyes of our fine companions?" He purred.

"I can think of a few things." With a languid stroke his comrade cut through the surf towards him.

He lidded his eyes, a lazy smirk on his lips when Rayel came within arms reach. "If we are thinking the same things it will be time well spent, no?" Water-wrinkled fingers traced the stubborn jawline of the mage, feeling the rough scrapping of stubble, then up to the lines of the Warden's tattoo.

As digits charted the light gray ink Ra's eyes connected with his. Desire burned there, barely restrained. Zevran didn't want it held back. He wanted to know if it would blaze as strong as the flames the mage called forth. Would it flare up like an inferno or leisurely burn for hours? His groin tightened as his mind called forth images of them wrapped together, moving in slow pleasure.

Rayel held the amber gaze with his own as he tilted his head, pulling those fingers to his lips. The calloused, wrinkled pads were treated to soft nibbles. One was slipped into his mouth, tasting of lake water, and tormented with his tongue. Teasing licks, gentle suckling that pulled the elf's finger in to the knuckle. A soft moan made him purr as he worked on the extremity as if it was another body part. His body enjoyed the Crow's obvious pleasure – the parted lips, desire damp eyes, the way he leaned towards Rayel...

"_Bacilo, bello_," Zevran's words were thick, but their meaning was clear.

The finger was released with a soft pop. "Gladly," He murmured. One hand grasped the rock behind his elf, his other hand grasped a taut thigh and pulled the flaxen haired man to him. Both moaned as their genitals mated. He rocked his hips against the hardness pressed against his own, savoring the coiling heat and the way Zevran reacted to it with sweet gasps and shivers. Nails were digging into his shoulders, adding another red ribbon to that heat.

Rayel dragged his lips over a wet collarbone, licking a wet path to Zev's jaw. He suckled on the soft skin for a moment to relish his taste. His lips finally found the elf's, smothering the rich sounds he made. The Warden was barely hanging onto his control now. How Zevran felt in his arms, the way they moved together, the music of his pleasure, even the drag of nails down his back and the taste of him on his tongue; all threatened to rip any restraint from him.

And he was close, already so close!

He shifted to bring their bodies even closer, the hand on his Crow's thigh snaking around his waist. The hand that had been on the rock was now trailing over the slimmer body. Nipples were pinched and rubbed, plucking throatier moans from his assassin. Rayel arched as those actions were reciprocated with scratching fingernails. The pain just added to his pleasure.

They were reaching for that pinnacle, all sloppy, open mouthed kisses and grinding hips, when it came crashing down. Their cries of completion were muffled in each others mouths.

Zevran panted, limbs still wrapped around the broader frame of his Warden. He felt limp, like wet noodles, and satisfied despite the rather hurried and amateur affair. "_Ah, il mio Warden, dovremo ripetere quello presto… correttamente_." He purred into a round ear, not even bothering to speak Ferelden. It was too much energy to spend at the moment concentrating on such an ugly language.

Zev chuckled when the dark-haired man shivered at his words. Well, well... "_Il Warden gode del suono della mia lingua_?" The second deeper shiver made him laugh. It seemed his Warden did enjoy the sound of the Antivan language. A useful piece of knowledge to use later.

"Silence, you debauched elf." Rayel rumbled, nipping Zev's ear. If he was going to continue speaking Antivan they wouldn't leave the lake at all. He claimed his mouth before he could say anything else, occupying him with lazy kisses.

The two men slowly disentangled once they had the energy to. Sand scrubbed away the evidence of their coupling and the dust from the road. The silence was comfortable, something which Zevran was thankful for. His Warden was used to casual sex from what their flirtations on the road hinted at.

He watched him as they pulled their clothes back on and headed back to camp. For now his need was sated. Curiosity, however, still plagued him. He would have his Rayel fully soon, and he would find out just how bright he could make him burn.

* * *

_Rane Fritte_ Fried Frog  
_Riso e Rane_ Frog with Risotto  
_Bacilo bello –_ Kiss me, handsome  
_Ah, il mio Warden, dovremo ripetere quello prestocorrettamente. _- Ah, my Warden, we shall have to do this again soon... properly.  
_Il Warden gode del suono della mia lingua? -_ Does the Warden enjoy the sound of my language?


	5. Chapter 4: Proposito

Destini Ingannevoli

Chapter 4: Proposito

_"Korial, where is he? He hasn't been here in weeks!"_

_'Rayel... he won't be coming... For your sake, for Zevran's sake, the tie between you has been severed.' The Dragon's mournful tone was echoed in sorrow heavy eyes. _

_"What do you mean? He __**has**__ to come!" The boy clenched his fists. His bottom lip quivered and he knew he would cry if Korial continued. "He promised me he would be here." _

_'Danger is mounting, little one, Zevran cannot meet you anymore... for your own safety and his.' Korial lowered his head, trying to comfort this mage who he was bonded to. 'Fate may smile upon you and the two of you shall once again meet, but right now you cannot be with him.'_

_"__**No**__! Bring him __**back**__!" Small hands lashed out at the spirit in anger. They pounded uselessly on silver scale as he screamed."Bring Zevran back! You can't do this!"_

_'Rayel... please...'_

_"__**Go away**__! I hate you!" The boy-mage pushed at Korial, tears welling in his eyes. Spilled down his cheeks in steady streams. "__**I hate you**__! I don't want to see you, ever! Go away go away go away!" _

_The Dragon faded away with a broken and keening cry, leaving Rayel in a heap on the Fade ground, sobbing over the loss of his best friend, comrade and confidant._

* * *

He woke with a start, face wet with tears from the dream. A new one, a new dream... no, a new memory. The others were happier, and his friend was always there. This one pulled down the shields around an old, bleeding wound in his heart. He'd lost not only a friend, but Korial that day. Though the Dragon was slowly returning to him since his Joining he still yearned for that elven boy.

A boy whose name he always knew in the dream but could never remember out of it. It was like trying to hold on to water.

A hand dashed at the drying tears as he swung out of the hammock. No one else was awake, thankfully. The ship's crew slept like the dead, and Alistair's furrowing brow signified a coming dream. Rayel ran his fingers over the wrinkled skin. He smiled when the mans' face evened out, settling into a happier look. The dreams would return, they always did. At least he bought Alistair some time before they did.

Rayel pulled on his robes and headed up to the deck. Some fresh air would help clear the remnants of that dream from his mind. It was crisp, and cold that night, coming from the south. Exactly what he needed. Shards of ice filled his lungs with every inward breath. He felt alive, but not much better. The dream would haunt him like the Darkspawn ones did. The boy with no name, no face... If he could just remember that he would be fine!

Hands braced themselves on the rails of the _Quiet Storm. _Water lapped at the blue-painted hull as the vessel cut through Lake Calenhad on it's way to the Circle Tower. Since that night on the shores of the lake, weeks had passed. The group had deviated to the small hamlet of Honnleath to investigate the control rod and picked up the golem, Shale. Afterwards they had backtracked to Redcliffe and found the Village under attack by the undead.

A day of fortifying the village, then a night of fighting the hordes culminated into an attack on the Keep itself. More undead were slain before they made it into the Great Hall and found the thing that was causing all of it. A demon posessing the Arl's son, with the Arlessa bowing to it's demands and Teagan it's puppet. After a quick fight, they came to the conclusion that they would travel to the Circle to save the boy.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the constant, almost non-stop fighting of the past two days that let that dream about his childhood friend sneak in. Maybe it had to do with Jowan... The maleficar being found in the Arl's dungeons bloody and beaten, he had forgotten the events prior to his Conscription into the Wardens. The Mage had rushed to his friend, intent on getting him out, only to recieve an acerbic welcoming as his friend screamed at him for his betrayal.

The words still resounded in his skull, the anger in his voice... Rayel deserved it all for ratting out his best friend to the First Enchantor. But worse then that had been Jowan forgave him. He hadn't deserved it, nor had he deserved to have Jowan teach him the forbidden magic. When Alistair and Wynne found out about that... he wasn't looking forward to that. Morrigan and Zevran somehow knew. How, he didn't know, there hadn't been time to talk.

"Not able to sleep as well?"

Rayel jumped, spinning around with a fire spell at the ready. "Wynne! Don't scare me like that." The fire evaporated into smoke as he breathed out his surprise. He made his way over to her, taking a seat at her feet. "Why aren't you in bed?" The elderly mage and Leliana were sharing the first mate's room on the ship.

A hand touched his hair in a motherly gesture. He leaned into it, eager for any comfort after the past few days.

"Leliana snores." Wynne chuckled, continuing to stroke his hair. She sobered and closed the book she had. "I am... apprehensive about returning to the Circle. That is not your problem though. Why can't you sleep, Ra?"

Warm fingers touched her hand. "Dreams again." He didn't need to explain them to her, most of the Tower knew about them. Wynne had been one of the more accepting of these dreams and with Jowan's help, helped him move on from the ending of them. "This one was... different. I dreamt of Korial... and when he told me the boy would never return." Tears pricked his eyes as the heart wound twinged with old pain.

"The boy is still out there, Rayel, and you have found the means of leaving the Tower."

"After the Blight is defeated, right?"

The Healer chuckled. "Of course after the Blight is defeated." She fussed with his hair, starting to braid it. Wynne had a soft spot for the young Warden, a sort of kinship in the situation they shared. The spirit that lived within her trilled in happiness at the connection with the Dragon's spirit. Korial was still weak and Rayel couldn't sense him yet, but her Faith Spirit could.

"How am I supposed to do that when I don't remember his name?" Rayel handed her a piece of twine from his pocket to tie off his braid with. "I could probably scour all of Thedas and never find him. He might even be dead." The Warden closed his eyes, shoving that thought aside. The elven boy couldn't be dead. There was a promise to fulfill and he would do so if it meant taking all his short life.

The end of the braid was tied off to brush over the Mages' shoulders. "The Maker will guide you to him, Rayel. It will come when He decides you're ready."

He held in his sigh. The Maker... he didn't really believe in the Maker. Yes, the God probably existed. He'd seen the Black City, fought the Darkspawn and Demons, but he couldn't put his belief in him when he'd turned his back on his followers twice. Bitten once, twice shy. A smile was forced for his fellow mage's benefit. "You're right, Wynne. I just need to wait and I will meet him again."

If the boy _was_ dead... He would visit his grave at least. That thought genuinely made him happy.

The dreams would come and go, and worrying about them would do nothing but make his life stressful. He didn't really need anymore stress in his life right now anyway. The little group of Blight Fighters gave him enough to last a few lifetimes!

Rayel climbed to his feet, taking Wynne's hand and kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Wynne. I feel a bit better now. Some sleep will help as well, I think." He parted from her with a small warming spell woven into her robes.

"I think I shall finish this chapter before I turn in again." She patted his hands in thanks and went back to her book. "Sleep well, Warden."

"And you as well, Wynne. Hope Leliana doesn't snore too much." White-blue eyes glanced up at the moon before disappearing into the lower decks.

Everything would turn out all right. He just had to have hope and patience.


End file.
